


The Box

by B_Radley



Series: Gandalf's Way [12]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e19-20 Twilight of the Apprentice, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Love, joy, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remembrance. Not the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

> This is what you get when I put myself through TofA again. A little piece, that does reference some of my other works in this series. This is for those who follow the series.
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Again, not the end.

The Covenant-Advisor of Corellia stares at the fire in the fireplace. The past and its eddies surround him. They suffocate him.

He thinks of a pair of brilliant blue eyes over a powerful Smirk, that more often than not was directed at him.

He thinks of those eyes in pain. In joy. In thought. In abandon.

He thinks of a pair of strong arms that bore the weight of the universe, as well as holding him in joy and in pain.

He turns his attention to the box that had just arrived via a circuitous route. A circuitous route from a small planetoid in the Outer Rim. A planet that bore a small base. A base named for a grumpy astromech of all things.

He steels himself. He opens the box.

The first thing that he pulls out is a ratty old robe. A robe that had begun life as a robe of their shared past of an Order now dead, that had abandoned them both in different ways. The robe had been patched and decorated - decorated by both the teenaged apprentice and the adult warrior as it had been outgrown for the purpose it had been intended for.

A double shoulder holster with two relics in the nerf-leather. Two clone blasters - DC-17s. Given to her by her _Vod'e_. Given to her as a symbol of their respect and love for one who loved them and lived and died with them as they fought together. A symbol of her childhood and her growth.

He reaches in again. An old, worn, _Akul-_ tooth headdress. A symbol of her skill and her adulthood. A skill that had saved his life, as he helped her earn this symbol. A symbol of learning, as well. A symbol of her heritage.

The next item. A worn nerf-leather flight jacket. Given to her by a loyal crew of pirates and their powerful, loving captain. He reaches into the pocket and finds the expected item. A single Republic credit on a gold chain. The symbol of rank and responsibility from that same pirate crew. A symbol of respect as it was elected and could only be revoked by the crew. As far as he knows, the rank still stands.

He pulls a piece of art paper out of the box. He sees the vivid blues and oranges of a colored pencil sketch. The Smirk captured in great detail, as well as her beauty. A view that few had seen of her and her only. He was one of the few. His eyes glisten. He puts this aside. It was for him and him alone.

The last item is a worn, half-filled bottle from his heritage. Whyren's Reserve. He opens the bottle. The smell wafts through the room.

He sits down. A life reduced to a box. He gets up again. _I will not sit for this._

On a whim, he looks into the box. There is nothing left. He glances down at his gunbelt, sitting on a chair near him. His own _Akul_ -tooth belt. Missing one tooth. A tooth last seen resting between the breasts of the warrior in a moment of stillness as they lay bare together; their hearts - their hearts from different worlds beating in sync. He pulls his own chain of office from around his neck. Sitting there is a single Akul-tooth, as well as a _beskar_  ring. The tooth is a match to the headdress from the box.

He steels himself again, as he prepares to add her name back to the list of those that he Remembers. The one that he had removed her from ten years or so ago when she had jumped back into his life. Before he does, he does something he has not done in a year or more. He reaches out to that energy field - the mystical energy field that they shared, whenever he could connect to it. His connection has been spotty over the years and with various injuries and traumas.

As he does, he feels the hum. Strong and vibrant. His heart beating, he reaches out.

His heart sinks. There is no death, only the Force. Or his preferred translation - the old way - _Death, yet the Force._

He looks into the fire. He takes a sip of the whiskey. _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc,.._...

There! A faint tingle. Growing stronger. Not strong enough to locate it.

But present.

A bright, blue-orange light. The light of laughter, of sadness, of joy.

Of hope.

He seals the bottle.

He begins to laugh as the blue-orange light laughs with him. And at him.

The door opens. His niece, the Elector that he advises and protects, her own eyes red-rimmed, looks at him as he turns to her.

His laughter falls off to a smile. The Covenant-Advisor of Corellia is not insane.

She looks into his eyes. She doesn't see madness or grief.

She sees hope.

 


End file.
